What We Have Isn't Nothing (It's Something)
by EmilyFuckingFitch
Summary: Anon Prompt from Tumblr: We casually hook up at parties sometimes, but this time you get so drunk that you couldn't make it all the way back to your dorm so I let you crash in my room because it's closer, and it turns out you're really cute when you wake up in the morning. College AU
1. Chapter 1

"Why did you drag me to this party again, Shaw?"

Shaw rolls her eyes as they enter the frat house. "Stop complaining, Cole." She walks them over to the keg, grabbing a red solo cup. "Besides, I thought you wanted to drink tonight," she says, filling up the cup. "Well, here's your opportunity." She hands it him and starts scanning the room—not for anyone in particular, she's just…checking out the scenery.

Cole takes it from her hand, though he doesn't seem convinced. "Yeah, but we could've gotten a couple of beers with my fake ID and drank back in the dorm, so why did we have to go…—hey, are you even listening to me?" He snaps his free hand in front of her. "Hey."

Shaw flinches back, annoyed. "What?"

He furrows his eyebrows, turning to see what Shaw's looking at. "Why are you so distracted…"

Cole doesn't finish his sentence because right then, the crowd clears enough in their line of vision, revealing Root in a pair of shorts and a tank, downing a shot as the crowd huddled around her cheers her on.

He turns to look at Shaw again, his smile teasing. God, Shaw wants to punch that smug look off his face.

"You were looking for her, weren't you?"

"No," Shaw quickly denies. Cole doesn't buy it.

"This is the seventh week in a row," Cole notes, taking a swig of his beer. "You like her, don't you?"

Shaw scoffs. Alright, this interrogation thing Cole's doing right now? Not cool. And completely off base. So what if she's been having sex with Root on the regular for the past seven weeks? And so what if she's stopped hitting up her other booty calls after their third time together? It doesn't mean anything. Cole's looking too much into it.

"I don't," Shaw emphasizes as she fills up another cup. "Now shut up," Shaw says, and pushes the cup to his chest for him to take. "And go get laid."

Cole gives her a shit-eating grin, grabs it from her and and tips both his cups to her. "Same to you, man," he cheers, and turns around to walk towards the pool table, taking a large gulp from one of the cups.

"Swear to God," Shaw mutters under her breath. "When we get back to our dorm I swear I'm going to—"

She feels a pair of arms wrap around her hips and warmth covering her entire back.

"Hey," Root says lowly, her breath heavy with alcohol, hot against her neck.

Shaw shivers.

"Heard you were looking for me," she husks, before dipping down and kissing along the side of Shaw's neck.

Shaw closes her eyes, struggles to repress the noise in the back of her throat. She feels Root playing at the hem of her shirt, every so often swiping her thumb against her exposed skin.

Her body's becoming too warm. Way, way too warm.

"No," Shaw eventually says, surprised at how even her own voice sounds.

She feels Root lips curve upward against her neck. She ignores the flutter in her chest. "Liar," Root whispers, as she starts dragging her hands up Shaw's torso, pulling up Shaw's shirt as she went.

Shaw's eyes widen and she immediately puts her hands over Root's to stop them. Root's never done this before, never been this bold to initiate this in public. They were always the pair to sneak off to storage closets or empty rooms or back alleys. Never this.

Something's…off.

Shaw turns around—the sudden movement causes Root to lose her footing, and Shaw quickly wraps an arm around her waist to steady her. She looks Root in the eye, trying to gauge if anything was different with Root tonight. But, no such luck. All she finds off about her is Root's overly cheery smile—which is actually normal for Root, Shaw's learned—and that glassy look in her eyes. Everything else seems normal.

"You alright?" Shaw asks, concerned.

"Never better," Root grins. "Now come on." Root grabs Shaw's hands from her waist and starts pulling Shaw with her to the stairs. "Don't you wanna be naughty with me?"

If anyone were to ask, the smile that asserts itself onto Shaw's face is not because she's been looking forward to their rendezvous for the past week, and the fact that Shaw's staring at Root's legs is not because they look breathtaking from behind.


	2. Chapter 2

"Take this off," Root mumbles against Shaw's lips, tugging weakly at her shirt. Any other time, Shaw would've scoffed at her demands and defied her, tell her that they do things her way, at her pace, not Root's. But oddly enough, Shaw's feeling compliant tonight. So she sits up—still straddling Root's waist—and pulls off her shirt with ease, throwing it to the other side of the room.

When Shaw looks back down again, she sees Root licking her lips, her eyes glazed.

"Better?" Shaw offers, lowering her body down again.

Root hums in response. "Much," Root slurs, before pushing herself up to resume kissing Shaw—but instead of connecting with her lips, she misses, meeting Shaw's chin instead.

"Root, what the hell," Shaw says, confused, pulling back just as Root lets herself fall onto the pillow. She giggles, placing her hands on Shaw's thighs.

Root's actually giggling.

Shaw frowns.

Okay, something really isn't right.

Shaw sits upright again to get a clearer look at Root.

"Hey, come back," Root pouts.

Shaw narrows her eyes at her. Root's eyes are completely dilated, and her face is way redder than when they were both downstairs.

Did she…?

"How much did you drink?"

Root looks at her coyly, pursing her lips as she tries to run her hands up Shaw's thighs.

"No, Root," Shaw scolds, stopping them before they can go up any further. She pulls them up over Root's head, holding them still. "How much?"

Root gives her a lazy grin, biting her lower lip. "Only seven."

Shaw rolls her eyes at her. This is not to the time to be playing games.

"Seven what?"

"Shots," Root says, dragging the 's' at the end of the word like a hiss. "Reese thought I couldn't drink him under the table. But I did," Root singsongs.

Shaw gives her a confused look, her grip on Root's wrists loosening. "Why'd you try to outdrink Reese?"

"Because," Root says lazily, as though it were obvious. "He was staring at you funny. I didn't like it."

"Root, he's one of my best friends," Shaw explains. "I've known him for years."

"Well, I still didn't like the way he was looking at you," Root says petulantly—though some of the words come out as incoherent. "And I won anyway, so." Root smirks, trying to arch her body up to get more contact with Shaw. "Let's get back to what we were doing."

Shaw uses one of her hands to push Root's sternum lightly, keeping her down on the bed. Shaw bows her head, her shoulders slumped, shaking her head.

She's not doing this, not when Root's not in her right state of mind, not when she's not being herself. It just…wouldn't feel right.

She tries not to think too hard about why that may be, or why that should be a red flag that Root's not just another warm body to her.

Shaw climbs off of Root and off the bed, goes to the other side of the room to pick up the shirt she threw a few minutes ago.

Root tries to sit up, but struggles to do so successfully. She ends up rolling her body over on the bed to get a clearer angle of what Shaw's doing. "Where are you going?"

"Back to my dorm," Shaw says, putting the shirt over her head and pulling her arms through the sleeves. "We're not doing this. You're way too drunk."

"No," Root whines, "I'm fine." Root pushes herself up with both her hands sluggishly, until, after a few trial and errors, she's sitting on her knees. "See?" She tries to get off the bed, but her motor skills are completely shot, and she ends up stumbling down to the floor. "Ow."

Fuck. Shaw can't leave her here alone like this. If she does, who knows what sort of trouble Root's going to get herself into, or who's going to take advantage of her.

Shaw sighs, deciding that she's going to have to walk Root back to Root's dorm. And not because she cares or to quell this weird nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She's just being a good samaritan, and she doesn't want to be responsible for what happens to Root if she leaves her here. If Root gets murdered or whatever, it's not going to be on Shaw.

"How far's your place, Root?"

Root blinks at her lazily. "Thirrrrty."

Shaw cocks an eyebrow at her. "Walking?"

"Nope," Root says, emphasizing her 'p' with a pop. "By car."

"Well," Shaw says, as she walks over to Root on the floor. "Did you bring your car?"

Root shakes her head.

Great, this night is just getting better.

"Come on," Shaw says, kneeling down to loop her left arm under Root's knees. "You're crashing over at my place. It's ten minutes from here." She wraps her other arm around Root's midsection. "Hold onto me," Shaw directs her.

Root nods and does as she's told, bringing her arms around Shaw's neck. Shaw grips her tightly before pulling her up, grunting at the exerting, and stands upright.

Root laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing—it's just." Root gives her a soft smile. "Never thought we'd be in this position."

Shaw realizes how this might look-she's carrying her as though someone would a bride-but fuck it. Shaw needs to get her out of this frat house quickly before Root decides to hurl, and God knows that Root can't walk right now. At all.

So Shaw just rolls her eyes as she walks out the room, carrying her down the stairs, and tells her: "Don't get used to it."

Besides, Root's not going to remember this anyway. Hopefully.

They reach the bottom of the stairs when she hears someone say:

"Whoa, Shaw."

She turns around to see that it's Cole.

He arches an eyebrow at her, looking between Shaw and Root's compromising position. "Heading out already?"

Shaw shakes her head at his hidden accusation. "Don't start with me, Cole. She's had too many shots, and her place is too far, so she's crashing at our dorm." Shaw looks down at Root to find her clinging tightly to her body, feels her burying herself closer to her neck.

Shaw frowns. It must be freezing for her.

"Can you hand me your jacket, Cole?" Shaw asks. "It's windy outside and she's only wearing shorts and a tank."

Cole gives her a knowing smile, but doesn't say anything about it. He starts taking off the jacket he's wearing and blankets it over Root's body.

And then, as though he couldn't help himself, he asks suggestively, "Moving awfully quickly, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Cole, I—" She feels Root start nuzzling her neck, and her knees suddenly buck.

"Damn it, Root," Shaw growls. "If you don't want me to drop you, I suggest you stop doing that."

"Then drop me," Root husks, before placing light kisses on her neck.

"You sure picked a handful," Cole says.

"I didn't pick anyone," Shaw counters, though her knees are wobbling through Root's ministrations. "I'm heading back before I end up dropping her." Root bites harshly on her neck, and Shaw struggles not to groan, her arms shaking. "Text me when you head back to the dorm, Cole," Shaw grits through her teeth, and starts walking out the door.

"Ditto," Cole says, saluting them. "You two have fun," he winks.

If Shaw's hands were free, she would've totally socked him in the face for teasing her this much.


End file.
